Prompt: The map (app) doesn’t show what’s right here

Carrie had her hands tucked in her coat pockets, fingers still feeling the sharp bite of winter wind. She walked quickly on the broad sidewalk, eyes scanning the ground for dark icy patches at the same time she kept track of the pedestrians moving around her. Minneapolis wasn’t New York, but she still practiced her Big City habits.

She noted the young man approaching, head down, looking at his phone. Idiot. She stepped clear of his path, closer to the building. Without looking up, he suddenly veered in front of her and walked right into her. She fell back on her butt and her backpack, trying to pull her hands out of her pockets.

“Oh shit! You’re real!” she thought she heard him say, as she shook her head and took a deep breath. She wanted to cry, or scream at him.

He was pulling her up by both hands. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Are you okay? Jeez, we’ve got to move. They’re looking…”

He tugged on her hands, and she was dazed enough to let him pull her to the side of the building, and around the corner. She realized they were in an alley and started to pull away. He pushed her against the wall and leaned close to her ear, hiding her face from the street.

“Please! I’m not going to hurt you. They’re passing us now. Just hold on for one more…”

She pulled her hands free and shoved against his chest. He stumbled back and she darted out of the alley.  She turned left and ran, her heart thundering in her ears. Would he follow? Grab her?

She gasped in the freezing air and slowed her pace to a fast walk. No one paid her any attention. She was afraid to look back. When she reached the corner, she turned and dared a glance. She almost stumbled. He was following her. She leaned against the building, trembling. No. What had she seen? He was walking behind three business men, pointing to them with his phone. He’d seen her. Mouthed something. Help me…

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Author note: Are you playing Ingress? If you’d like an invite, email me. I opened the app on my way home tonight, and though it showed the streets and buildings, it never resolved to show XM lights or portals along the way. I had a sudden vision of the world as I saw it superimposed on this dark, lifeless world. What about cars moving on the roads? I didn’t actually see any people out – it was dark and cold.

Anyway, I was playing with this idea, when all of the sudden, I thought, “Oh FFS, it’s the Matrix! :(”

So what do you do when you have an idea, but you’re not sure it’s original, or original *enough*…

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And so, with a loving heart, I offer you

Namaste

I’ve heard many translations. Here’s my favorite:
The light of the universe that shines within me recognizes
the light of the universe that shines within you.

#

Prompt: Walking in the Aftermath

We’d been two hours on the road when I saw the first sign. It was one of those big green signs that used to hang over the highways, but this one was torn in half and crumpled like paper, dangling from a bent support pole, with one corner digging into the torn up ground beneath it.

I pointed, and Darren nodded. “Stone trolls?” I asked quietly. He shrugged. I sighed and stared at the sign as our horses walked steadily past it. He was right. It probably was. It didn’t really matter. We’d deal with whatever we found. We had to, until we could find Karina and put an end to this.

I wasn’t ready to face what that might mean. I’d killed humans and monsters since the Rending. I wasn’t sure I could kill my twin. Even if she’d taken my heart’s wish for magic in the world and done…this…

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And so, with a loving heart, I offer you

Namaste

I’ve heard many translations. Here’s one I love:
The light of the universe that shines within me recognizes
the light of the universe that shines within you.

#

Dogs in House	Houdini
Time writing	15 minutes
November word count	Too low :(

Prompt: Who does the sentinel guard? Take 2

Thanks to SergeyMusin for permission to use his powerful “Deadly Shadow At Necropolis”!

Note: I started this story from one of the young "dorlen" boy's POV a few days ago, but it wasn't really working for me. I decided to let this one percolate for a bit, and thought I'd try writing from the sentinel's POV instead. What do you think? 

My steps were the only sound echoing off the moonlit walls as I followed my endless path through the city’s streets. When I reached the square, I would stand sentinel in the moonlight and recharge the jooln that ran red through my channels and fed my my central power source. I felt no fatigue in this body, but my sensors reported power was below optimal, and the full moon would provide plenty of light.

Once stationed in the square, I leaned against my staff and felt the thrum of power as it, too soaked in the moonlight. The jooln began to pulse throughout my body, and I almost remembered sensations of long ago, when I was alive. In my mind, I reached out for the memories, but they disappeared like smoke before the barrel of my forearm.

A scuff, then silence. I didn’t need to move to expand my senses, seeking the intruder. Likely some desert kaptil had wandered too far afield, and an auditory shrill would send it scurrying on six legs back into the silent sands. I scanned the area with night vision and found three dorlens crouching on the steps of the far building, hiding behind a line of power cells. I frowned. Did the fools think they would be safe there?

As I started toward them, clouds filled the sky, dimming the moonlight. I heard the first sounds of movement and knew I had little time. I raced toward the hidden trio and leaped up the steps, just as I sensed the others approaching. Sweeping my staff in an arc before them, I pulled up long-forgotten speech. “You dare? Noone enters the Necropolis. You know the penalty?”

The tallest dorlen moved in front of the other two. My sensors showed his fear, but he stood tall, reaching his empty hands toward me. “Please…please let my brothers go. I will pay the penalty—”

“Jarron, no!” one of the other dorlens shouted.

I frowned. Brothers? Memories…

I straightened and struck the step with my staff. Turning from them, I ground out, “Stay. Close. I lead. Out.” They did not follow when I started down the steps, and I stopped, turning back to them. I felt the smile on my face, but I knew it did not look like it once did. Speech came faster now. “Do you think I guard those who live here? Sentinels protect the living. Come.”

I turned and continued down the steps. It was up to them to follow me, or die…

To be continued?

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And so, with a loving heart, I offer you

Namaste

I’ve heard many translations. Here’s one I love:
The light of the universe that shines within me recognizes
the light of the universe that shines within you.

#

Dogs in House	Houdini
Time writing	~45 minutes
October word count	1,328

Prompt: Who does the sentinel guard? Take 1

Thanks to SergeyMusin for permission to use his powerful “Deadly Shadow At Necropolis”!

It took a full moon’s journey to reach the Necropolis, even riding our bildoons in shifts. One rider stayed awake, astride the lead bildoon’s head, and the other two slept on their beasts’ broad back-plate saddles. It wasn’t comfortable, but we had to move fast.

I leaned back against the lead bildoon’s ear plates and looked up the sliver of remaining moon. We only had one more night to reach the city, or we’d miss our chance. Returning home empty-handed wasn’t an option. The Thieves Guild would throw us out on our ear if we had nothing to show for a full moon. Unguilded thieves didn’t survive long in Setaastin.

This whole thing was Jarron’s idea. I glanced back to where he and Boon were sleeping, while the bildoons plodded steadily toward the city. Bildoons might only have three brain cells to rub together, but they had perfect navigation. Jarron had stolen a Necropolis goblet from Master Toock, and once he let the bildoon’s sniff and drool all over it, we gave them free reign, and they set out on an unerring path to the city of the dead.

The day before the new moon was the only time the living could enter the city. Jarron convinced us that we could load up on Necropolis goods and return to Setaastin as heroes. Well, heroes among thieves, anyway. Which was the same thing to us, taken in by the guild when no one else would have us or help us.

Boon and I were brothers in every way that counted, except by blood. We teamed up with Jarron after our mother was killed in the Valken Purge. He’d already been living on the streets long enough to know all the safe sleeping spots, and cooks who might leave an extra loaf or bowl of stew to cool on their kitchen window ledge.  When the Night Guard caught us, the Thieves Guild paid our bail and took us in. We all took the brand the next full moon. I rubbed the crest on my forearm, remembering.

To be continued…
(with another "take" from a different POV)

                                                                                                            

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And so, with a loving heart, I offer you

Namaste

I’ve heard many translations. Here’s one I love:
The light of the universe that shines within me recognizes
the light of the universe that shines within you.

Time writing	~30 minutes
September word count	8,306

Prompt: Hiding in plain sight

Thanks to Alexandra Semushina for permission to use her charming artwork, "Owl"!

Trina fluffed her wings and turned her head around, tilting for parallax, as she searched for signs of any followers. Not much could keep up with her in owl form, and she’d flown far from last night’s roost. Satisfied, she opened her wings and dropped down to the ground, changing as she fell. Dropping into a crouch, she swept her feathered cape behind her back and drew her knife. Losing her owl senses always made her feel even more vulnerable.

Standing tall, she sheathed the blade and pushed her goggles back on her head. She eyed the creek beside her, looking for fish or large pincer-shrimp. Her tight-laced leggings would keep her feet safe from rocks and the freezing water if she moved quickly. There, a fat eel rested in the shadow of a boulder, the water rushing around it. Trina tugged her blade free again and crouched on the bank, pulling her goggles down to protect her eyes. Drawing on her owl speed, she plunged into the water and speared the eel with her blade pinning it against the rock. With her other hand, she grabbed its tail end—far from the needle teeth—and in one strong sweep, pulled it against the blade, slicing the length of its body until its teeth wedged on the blade. Holding the still-wriggling pieces taut against the blade, she backed out of the water and threw it on the ground.

“That will be a fine supper,” said a deep voice behind her.

Trina whirled, then grinned, pulling her goggled off her head and shaking her hair loose. “Indeed. I might even share,” she teased…

To be continued?

Dogs in House	Houdini
Time writing	~20 minutes
July word count	12,754

Prompt: Attacked by the Soldiers of the Underground, Part 2

…Continued from Part 1

Without a word, Bojdehn moved to the other stall and opened the door. “Jirrewl,” he called, his voice more tender than Darryn had ever heard. “Come and give us your opinion of my young apprentice.”

Another griffin walked out, eyeing Darryn. She was smaller than the male, with delicate feathers in her forelock and mane. Her fur was palest silver, and her tail lifted and spread wide in a magnificent peacock fan. “To ride? Or to spell?”

Bojdehn shrugged, watching her closely.

Jirrewl swung her head back to Darryn and snapped her curved beak twice, tossing her head up as if she were smelling him on the air. “He is more than he knows himself, isn’t he?”

Darryn frowned and cocked his head to the side. What did she mean by that? He was just Darryn, the Master’s apprentice. He wasn’t more than anything. His attention jumped back to Bojdehn, but he had missed his reply.

“…these past four years. So, if you’re ready Guzhek?” The great male griffin nodded. “And Jirrewl?” She stepped toward Darryn and dipped her head in assent. “Then shall we make haste, Apprentice? Or would you prefer to stand here in the courtyard until dinner?”

Darryn jerked into motion, walking toward Jirrewl with his hand outstretched. She regarded him with a glimmer of amusement—or irritation?—in her eyes. As he reached out to touch her face, she drew back and said sharply “I am not a horse, Apprentice. Do not pet me. Now, ride.”

Darryn jerked his hand down to his side, face burning. How could he ride such a magnificent creature? He looked over to see his Master rising up in the air until he easily lifted his leg over Guzhek’s back. Well, Darryn could do that. He shut his eyes briefly and muttered, “Aumento no aire.”

When he was seated, Jirrewl looked back at him with a nod of approval. “Well done, young one. Now, are you ready to fly?”

Her wings unfurled beneath him, and with one powerful leap, they were in the air. Darryn expected to tumble off her back, with no saddle or reigns to hold on to, and he dared not bury his hands in her mane. But to his surprise, he stayed upright, even as she flew higher and higher. Above the trees, she flew straight, and Darryn leaned forward to see around them. “How did I do that?” He called to her.

“You? Not you, young one. That’s all me. Now relax. While we ride, you will never fall.”

To be continued?

Dogs in house:	Houdini, Brindle
Time writing	~45 minutes
July word count	4,976

Prompt: Attacked by the Soldiers of the Underground, Part 1

Thanks to Fantasy Scroll for some fun new writing prompts!

Darryn sipped the hot coffee that helped fuel his tired brain and wiped the last of his runny eggs with fresh sourdough bread. There was no talking at the breakfast table. Master’s rule, and Darryn had not broken it once in four years.

Master Bojdehn sipped his own coffee and studied the scroll rolled out in the air before him. With a wave of his hand, he sent it back to the study and considered his young apprentice. It was time.

“Today we will journey to Pockswold,” he said, and Darryn sloshed the coffee out of his mug, startled by his voice.

Wiping the coffee from the table, Darryn tried to hide his excitement. “What takes us there, Master?” They never went anywhere. He’d been cooped up in the Master’s keep for four years, never leaving the warded grounds. The prospect of visiting even such a pathetic blight on the map as Pockswold made him want to run out the gated doors immediately.

“We have business to attend to,” Bojdehn said shortly. He relented when he saw Darryn’s disappointment. “Master Sodrehd has sent a load of supplies too much to be magicked. So they will be waiting in the village for us to bring back.”

Darryn looked dismayed. “We have to carry it? How much will it be?”

Bojdehn laughed. “Not we, my young apprentice. Come, let us make ready.”

In four years, Darryn had learned every square inch of the entire keep. He followed Master Bojdehn into the front courtyard and stopped short, staring at the stables lining the left wall. His hand trembled slightly as he pointed. “What? Where? How?”

Bojdehn strode ahead without looking back. “All good questions, Apprentice. But we don’t have time now. On the journey, we can talk.” He opened the closest stall door and stepped back, bowing slightly.

Darryn had followed along, mouth gaping open with disbelief at the sudden appearance of the stalls. He stopped again when he noted his Master’s sudden courtesy. He took a step backward as a griffin walked out of the stall. “That…that…”

The griffin eyed him with disdain. “I am a he, not a that, thank you.” He turned to Bojdehn. “Really, my old friend, you think he is ready?”

Bojdehn eyed Darryn and stroked his jaw, as if considering. Darryn snapped his mouth shut and stood tall, trying to look more impressive than the slack-witted first impression he had already provided.

[description of the griffin here]

Continued in Part 2…

Dogs in house:	Houdini, Brindle
Time writing	~45 minutes
July word count	4,976